I placed the arrow on the bow. I pulled it back as much as I could. I imagined myself to be Katniss Everdeen or Oliver Green while taking the shot. The arrow flew high and mighty. Yes! Yes, it’s going. The arrow flew and went… to the ground. 

Writing at 2:30 in the morning is always a bad idea but to quote a friend of mine, “People are more prone to opening up others at night time,”, so, there’s that. Anyway, I finished my internship experience yesterday. To be honest, I had no expectations about it when I went for the interview and when I first started. I’ve always imagined myself in a computer room sitting behind the desk. Another scenario would be having small talk with colleagues and having small chuckles. Then, there were so many things happening around me that my mind started to be filled with a thousand things I can write about regarding work but I have actually written none during that period.

Before I go on further, let’s take a look to the past, shall we? I have always figured I wouldn’t have the same perspectives on life had I not grown up in Kuching, a nice little quiet town filled with the nicest people. Compared to Ipoh, my hometown, Kuching is a less busier city and the pace of life is much slower. I moved to Kuching when I was 10 so the time I spent in my hometown was relatively short. I would be so different that I don’t think I will write all these stuff on my blog had I grown in my hometown. Different places, different cultures, different life.

They say a person is made from nature and nurture. I studied that in that one psychology course, which I did pretty reasonably for, might I add. Nature coming from your genetic makeup and nurture coming from your environment. My genetics probably make up a large aspect for what I am but my parents nurtured me a lot too but I don’t see them for half a day when I have school. Hence, a lot of my nurturing then came from my city too.

If I grew up in my hometown, I know I will be a much different person. Firstly, I probably would have asked my childhood crush to be my girlfriend. Secondly, I would have been much more distant from the church. I would probably be much more fluent in Cantonese than I am at the moment.

So, I came back from Sydney to do my internship in Ipoh. This time is different than the usual holidays cause I now have to be in the mix and started to know plenty of different people from different races, cultures and backgrounds. I also have to speak more Malay and Cantonese, which I have barely used in the last decade compared to the English language. I was a fish out of water if you will. It was my second shot at seeing what life in Ipoh would have been like had I grown up there.

During the internship, that image of me sitting behind a desk evaporated quickly. In fact, I did very little of that as I was mostly on site doing hands on work. Although I went to work not having any pre-determined expectations but it’s impossible not to as you hear people complain about work all the time. As an intern, it was part of my role to ask as many questions as I can. With questions then, you start to have conversations.

There might be someone that started a family when he was really young. There might be people who’s trying to feed a family of six. There might be a guy that gave up his dreams to take care of his parents. In a workplace that’s filled with the Malaysian diverse culture and people coming from different education and financial backgrounds, you start to realised how fortunate we are to even be breathing in this world. We complained when the internet stops for 5 seconds and we are constantly feeling the need to look for social gratification through social media but I have seen people who does not care about the Internet and certainly don’t give a damn about social media as the breadwinner’s responsibility was their main priority.

The luxuries, as great an enhancement that is to our life, the truth is life was never about that. We have an image of how we want to live a good life when we start working but a good life is not about a beautiful house and fanciful cars but rather it’s about the relationships you have with people and be content with the blessings God has given you. We always work hard and diligently to advance in our careers but when put into context, no one cares if you are a rocket scientist or a C.E.O of the company, what matters is you striving hard to contribute to society. We should have great careers not because we want great money but rather we want to increase the value of life to yourself and people around you.

That second shot at living in Ipoh? I found out that no matter where I am, the people make the difference. The truth is I would never have any idea about who I would have become had I grown up in my hometown as there’s so many factors involved. It’s ridiculous to assume anything. Put in any situation and in any city, there’s always the good and the bad but what matters is how you perceive yourself in that environment and how open and freely you are to accept others in your life willingly. Then we will learn a thing or two along the way that we will carry with us forever.

I took my bow. I stand back. I relaxed myself. I took everything in. Years have passed since that first shot. I didn’t think of how I look. I let go. Where did it went? It was everything I wanted it to be and much more. 

Last Saturday, I was in church as usual for mass. There was this priest who probably gave one of the most powerful sermons in my life. It won’t do it justice for me to paraphrase what he said but I will try my best to repeat word for word what he said but also shorten it as it was longer than this.

“So, today’s Gospel talks about leprosy. As we all know, leprosy is a skin virulent disease. It spreads to other people by touch. In the Gospel, we hear Jesus touched the man and he was healed. It was a miracle. Now, this brings back memories of me visiting this place that was helping people who were suffering AIDS. I volunteered there every Saturday. So, there was this man. Now, he’s an elderly man who is probably in his sixties and he stays there. For some reason, he never talked to anyone and I tried talking to him too but to no avail. He wouldn’t talk to anyone except for this man named John.

I always wondered why does he only talk to John. Anyway, after a few months of volunteering at the place, he finally talked to me. We had a good chat and I started asking him, “So, how come you only talk to John? Why wouldn’t you talk to the rest of us?”. He then replied, “You all come here to volunteer and put on these fake smiles. You do not realise how hypocritical you are. Because I have AIDS, everyone seems to be afraid of me and when they come near me, they look like they want to avoid me. This John was the same thing as well. One day, I went to the toilet and slipped. John, without hesitation, rushed to me and immediately grabbed hold of me. He held me in his arms and lifted me back up. I then know that John was different and he wasn’t afraid at all of touching me.”

Imagine that. A touch was all it took to change a man’s heart. Just as Jesus touched the leper, John touched the old man’s heart. I actually come here today with a heavy heart. When I come to town, I usually call this good friend of mine. He would pick me up from the train station and would take me around to have the best food in town. So two days before I came to town, I messaged him and told him about it. I was wondering if we could have the same arrangement as before. He didn’t reply. So, I was a bit worried. Maybe he was busy. So, I decided to message him on Facebook. What I saw was heartbreaking. His wall was filled with all these messages saying, “My condolences, what a great man he was.”.

I looked through the wall and kept searching for answers. My own friend. And I didn’t know that he passed away two months ago. I felt very troubled and went to the chapel to pray. I really really wanted to cry but no tears came out. It was almost as if I didn’t know how to cry. And that I had lost that intuition to touch and to feel. I felt really sad.

In this day and age, we have all these wonderful ways of communicating with each other through Whatsapp, Facetime and whatnot but it almost seems we have lost that instinct to express our emotions because we don’t see each other face to face. We have lost that instinct to express ourselves emotionally. That intuition to know something is wrong when you talk to the person when you see them. That intuition to touch someone’s heart.”

I felt so touched by his sermon that I cried. Images of my grandparents flashed by my mind. Two distinct images. Both by their bedside and both in the hospital. I remembered my grandmother who had pneumonia. Her cheeks were all puffed up due to the medication and drips they were giving her. Her skin was filled with fluids. I remembered looking at her eyes and touching her arm. I said, “Mama, don’t worry you know. It’s going to be alright.”.

Another was the day I came back from Sydney to my hometown. I didn’t know that my grandfather was in a coma and critical stage when I boarded the flight. When I arrived, I only saw my dad. He then said, “Mummy is with your grandfather.”. I was told he could go at any time and that I might not even get to see him for one last time. When I sat in the taxi back, I tried so hard to stay awake although I was so tired from my flight. Each time the phone rings, my heart sank deeper each time in fearing my grandfather had passed away.

Eventually, I reached the hospital room. My grandfather was still there, lying on his bed in a coma. I looked at him. I looked at his wrinkly skin and all the patches on his arm. I touched his arm again and said, “Kong kong, I’m back. I’m here kong kong. Can you hear me?”. I just broke down there and then in front of my relatives. I felt so helpless and useless. My heart was broken into a million pieces.

In two of the incidents, I touched them. I didn’t care how wrinkly their skin were. I didn’t care what was on there or how many patches were there. They are my grandparents and I will touch their skin when I want to because it’s my instinct. No form of electronic communication will ever replace that. Nothing will ever replace that instinct that I have to ask if someone is okay because that is the fundamental of being human. We can talk to each other as much as we want on the phone and message each other as much as we like but nothing will replace a human’s touch.

I think I forgotten the importance of that. I didn’t realize how significant a human’s touch is and how much it is able to change someone’s life. Let’s not forget we have that gift. Let’s remember that you and I have hands for a reason. Let’s remember that you and I can always and will always be able to touch someone’s life should we allow ourselves to. You and I are special like that.

It’s that time of the year again! Oscar season! Honestly, this was a period I never quite follow when I was growing up. It just so happened that I have been keeping up with much more movie news that I thought I would. I follow a couple of channels on Youtube that talks about movies; mainly AMC Theatres, Schmoes Know and Jeremy Jahn. These are all passionate movie enthusiasts. Almost everyday, I get a good daily dose of movie updates and know the in things of the movie industry such as Michael Keaton will probably will his first Oscar for his performance in Birdman or that Whiplash might actually win the best picture award.

The funny thing is I have not watched Birdman or Whiplash to know anything more than what I hear on the videos and podcasts. I guess it’s cause I haven’t had time to go to the cinemas lately to watch them and also, sometimes the movies that are up for Oscars are not my cup of tea. I actually started watching all these movie channels because I’m a huge fan of superhero and Star Wars movies. Inadvertently, I absorbed everything else that comes along with it but fascinatingly, I initially failed to understand how can people just talk about movies every second of every hour of every day whether they are on or off camera. How can one dedicate their lives to discuss about everything related to the effervescent and enigmatic Hollywood industry?

I actually do know why but it wasn’t until last Saturday where I saw the picture from another perspective again. I was watching a football match between Arsenal F.C. and noisy North London neighbours, Tottenham Hotspur F.C. Now, people know I support Arsenal and every Arsenal fan hates (well dislike but hate will suffice) Tottenham Hotspur. Don’t ask why. Just go with it. I can’t believe we lost to them 2-1 and I was so angry that I probably could have smashed the television using a sofa. (I know I sound really violent but I was really upset.) I was talking to a friend and said dude, I am so opposite of calm right now I’m not even kidding. She then said, “Why do you like football so much?”. Therein lies the question isn’t it? After all, it’s just a match. Why do I like football so much to the point of emotional attachment?

Maybe it’s because I’ve been supporting them for ten years and hence, it’s normal to feel upset about it. Maybe it’s because my friends all watched it and I’m taken by it. It can’t be possibly the former because I felt upset when I initially started supporting them. The latter is possible but not really too. It hit me then. I realised every single time I watched an Arsenal match, it became my escape.

My friends know how passionate I am about the Lord of the Rings movies or superhero movies. Why is that? When I hear these movie enthusiasts talk, they mentioned they go to the cinemas to have fun. I mean come on, Guardians of the Galaxy was a fun movie but it really wasn’t THAT great in terms of plot development or the storyline. Also, some people actually have fun watching Michaebaxplosion Transformers! How is that even possible? Transformers… Really. Anyway, it’s the same reason I love watching football, the cinema becomes a platform of escape from the daily worries, struggles and family problems. For 120 minutes, the time is yours. If the movie is good, you worry about nothing else except for that which you are watching.

I think we easily judge people for having a passion for something when we don’t realise it is this passion that forms an escapade or break from hard-hitting realities of life. Of course, sometimes the passion is misplaced and people wonder into the wrong territories of drugs, sex and violence. It is one thing to escape from reality but it is another to escape to a harsher one and thinking it’s the same. We escape from reality not because we hate it but because a good escape helps us understand it better. We forget sometimes that fundamental of movies and football are human emotions. Any movie is build on that and always  has tangible connection to surreal experiences when done right and a football match is the perfect example to understand human dynamism. Of course, we don’t see that when watching them but we take them on without knowing we are. Understandably, the escape is just one aspect of the whole experience and there’s plenty of other things to talk about.

I remembered in my pubic speaking speech, I talked about football and at the end I quoted Bill Shankly. He said this, “Football is not a matter of life and death. I assure you, it’s more than that.” Whether you’re a fan of movies or sport, don’t you just find that quote fascinating?

I was going to come up with a better title than such a straightforward, uninspiring, uninteresting “Two Years” but that’s what it is. It’s been two exact years since I first started blogging. To be honest, it’s probably not much of a landmark but I think it is for me because, I never thought I will still be doing this after so long.

How did this all started? This started as a hobby.

I was inspired by a friend, who is definitely much more wittier, hilarious and of course, very much a journalist in nature. Her blog was such a good read that I decided to try one out. It also coincided with my longing to write stories again as I never had the opportunity any more since school ended. So, why not combine both? The aim then was to blog through stories and convey nuances of emotion through that. So, I started work on my first story, “The Sixth Sense“. It was about a man, broken emotionally, trying to find his way back in life through the experiences of others.

In a way, it worked because I was enjoying what I was doing and although the stories weren’t the tiniest shade of J.K. Rowling, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle or Mitch Albom, I felt good because I know I will get better with time as I improve on the structure, grammar, dialogue and plot development. As with everything, I also lost time writing short stories and I couldn’t keep coming out with new ideas on such a short basis. It was also during this time I was asked to write something for the Catholic Weekly regarding anything as long as it is related to the Church. I thought to myself, great! I am going to write a story titled “The Walk” and submit to them. It turned out that they wanted me to write my opinion instead. Writing that I did. I did that for a while and didn’t blog much during that period.

I don’t know what it was or who rather that triggered me to write more about myself as the months passed. I believe it was “The Path” that was the inception of the more opinionated and personal posts. Without realizing, I started writing a lot more than originally intended. This blog then became my outpouring of my own emotions. This wouldn’t have been possible had it not been for my friends who were touched and inspired by what I’ve written. When I found out a friend made this website his bookmark and a friend said “I feel touched whenever I read your blog”,  it meant the world to me and I’m forever grateful for that.

Then again, I really didn’t know what I blogged about. I just tell them I blogged about the little things and the rest to avoid explaining too much. When asked, a friend said, “He blogs about life,”. I guess that’s what it is. Life.

I’m thankful to every single person that stopped by this little hut of mine and stayed with me during the rain and also the sunshine. I know I normally just write what I write and treat it like a personal diary but it’s you that gave me strength and courage to keep writing. Thank you for that.

So, what now? I guess I will keep doing what I usually do. At the same time, I will write more different types of posts as well as it allows me to grow as a writer when I go out of my comfort zone.

This started as a hobby. It has now become my passion.